by Will Jordan
‘We need—’ Frost began.
‘No arguments,’ Drake cut in. ‘Just get it done. Now.’
As the two specialists strode off to open the warehouse doors, Drake turned his attention back to their prisoner. Holstering his weapon, he approached the boy and hunkered down in front of him to get a better look.
His age was hard to pin down because malnutrition had likely slowed his growth, but he guessed the kid had seen perhaps ten years. His small face made his eyes, deep brown and guarded, seem bigger than they were, while his shaggy mane of black hair looked like it had been hacked at with the same knife he’d used to attack Mason. Speaking of which, an angry discoloured bruise along his jawline stood as testimony to the fact he hadn’t gone quietly.
All things considered, he was a thin, scrawny, bedraggled-looking kid. But as he’d already demonstrated, he was neither stupid nor cowardly. There was little fear in his eyes, but rather that same hungry, dangerous look Drake had come to know all too well.
‘Nod if you understand what I’m saying,’ Drake commanded.
Sure enough, he was rewarded with a reluctant nod, the kid’s awkwardly shorn hair bobbing with the movement.
‘I’m going to take your gag off now. If you try to scream or call out, you’ll wish you hadn’t. Nod again if you understand.’
Again he received a nod of affirmation.
Reaching out, Drake gripped the edge of the duct tape and tore it off with a single hard yank. The kid winced as the adhesive took away a layer of skin in the process, but to his credit managed not to cry out. Tough little bastard, Drake thought.
‘What’s your name?’
The boy stared back at him, saying nothing. The expression on his face suggested he’d understood the question; he simply didn’t want to answer. Drake didn’t blame him.
‘What’s your name?’ Drake repeated. ‘Answer, or we’re finished here.’
He was smart enough to know when to capitulate. ‘Yasin.’
A mechanical clanking from the warehouse entrance told him the doors were being hauled open. Moments later, he heard the sound of an engine starting up.
‘Good. Yasin, I’m going to ask you a couple of questions. If you give me honest answers, everything will be fine. If you lie to me, I’ll know about it,’ he said, glancing at Anya. ‘Now, are there other boys with you? Anyone expecting you back?’
Yasin’s big liquid brown eyes flicked from Drake to the other members of the group, and the weapons they held. It wasn’t hard to guess what was going through his head.
‘Yes. I am in gang. Big gang, make big trouble for you, American.’
The Range Rover rolled to a stop beside the old Russian van, engine rumbling away at idle while Frost closed the warehouse doors behind, shielding them from the outside world.
‘They come looking for me. They have guns, more guns than you,’ the kid carried on, in full flow now. Some of his former bravado was returning as he sensed himself gaining the upper hand. ‘They fuck you up big time unless you let me go.’
‘Careful, dude,’ Mason warned him. ‘The only one who’ll get fucked up is you.’
He sounded earnest and convincing enough, but Drake had an ace up his sleeve. He looked over his shoulder at Anya, who had been watching and listening. Her keen eyes took in every movement, every facial tic, every glance and change in posture. She shook her head, confirming Drake’s suspicions.
‘I suppose you weren’t listening when I warned you not to lie to me, Yasin,’ Drake chastised him. ‘There’s no one out there waiting for you, is there? You’re on your own.’
Yasin’s eyes flicked nervously back and forth, his new-found confidence evaporating as it became obvious he wasn’t going to bluff his way out of this one.
‘You kill me?’ he asked, deciding to come right out with it. No sense beating around the bush, Drake supposed.
‘That wasn’t my first plan. Yasin, I—’
He was interrupted by the loud, jarring sound of a fist slamming against metal, and instinctively turned towards the main doors as the sound was repeated. Someone was trying to get in.
Someone had come for them.
Chapter 43
Frost was over by the laptop within moments, quickly scanning the images projected by the outside cameras. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for.
‘We’ve got company,’ she hissed.
‘No shit,’ Drake replied, wondering for a moment whether Yasin had underplayed his hand. Perhaps he did have backup after all. ‘What kind?’
‘Two men in civvy clothes, one vehicle.’
Drake jumped to his feet, leaving the kid for now. ‘Armed?’
‘Can’t tell, but they’re both suited up. Look like government officials to me.’
The banging was repeated, louder this time. Whoever they were, they were clearly getting tired of waiting.
‘Should we evac?’ McKnight asked, checking the chamber on her weapon.
‘We’d be inviting a car chase if we did,’ Mason warned her.
It took Drake only a moment to make his decision. ‘Clear the room. Weapons and equipment out of sight.’
‘What about the kid?’ Frost asked.
‘Put him in the van,’ Drake said, for lack of better options. ‘Keira, get in there with him and keep him quiet, for Christ’s sake.’ He gave Yasin a hard look. ‘If he moves, shoot him.’
‘Let’s go,’ Frost said, replacing the duct tape on Yasin’s mouth and hauling him into the Bukhanka. The boy knew better than to resist, either because he had no more love for the police than Drake and the others, or because he knew his life depended on it.
‘Everyone else, be cool and follow my lead. Especially you,’ he said, jabbing an accusing finger at Anya while the others quickly hid any incriminating weapons and equipment. Mason, remembering the bloodstain on his shirt, snatched up his jacket and threw it on.
As this frantic work was going on, Drake approached the doors, shoving the Browning automatic down the back of his jeans. No telling if he might need it in a hurry.
‘Police! Open up!’ a muffled voice called from outside.
‘Coming,’ Drake replied. ‘Just a second.’
There was no time to check that the others were ready. All he could do was trust that they’d hidden the most incriminating evidence. Reaching the wicket door, he paused only a moment to compose himself, undid the latch and swung it open.
The two men he found himself facing were, as Frost had described, both dressed in civilian business suits, though neither looked like they’d seen a dry cleaner’s or a clothes press for a while. Both men sported sunglasses and the kind of neatly trimmed moustaches that seemed to be regulation for any man over 30 in this part of the world, but that was pretty much where the similarities ended.
The man closest to Drake was the bigger of the two, standing a good four or five inches above his comrade. Grim faced and serious, everything about him seemed larger and more pronounced than it needed to be; his square chin jutted forward, his jaw as broad and heavy as a shovel, his nose long and high bridged, his brows thick and bushy. His skin was pockmarked and cratered, perhaps by teenage acne. Altogether, the impression conveyed was of a man one most definitely didn’t want to fuck with.
The other man was shorter and lighter of build, his suit hanging loose on his slender frame. In contrast to his large and almost brutish companion, this man’s features were soft and amiable, his greying hair combed over in a heroic but vain attempt to hide a growing bald patch. He had the sort of kindly, unthreatening face that reminded Drake of a Werther’s Original commercial.
But despite his modest stature and less than intimidating visage, something about the smaller man seemed to hint at quiet authority and confidence. Drake had spent enough time in the military to know a ranking officer when he saw one.
‘Can I help you?’ Drake began, playing the innocent civilian card.
Sure enough, the smaller of the two men held up a badge just lon
g enough for Drake to glimpse the insignia of the Punjab province police.
‘Good afternoon, sir. I’m Detective Gondal, this is Detective Mahsud,’ he began, his voice as soft and unassuming as his appearance. His English was impeccable. ‘We are with the Punjab Police Department.’
‘I see,’ Drake said, hoping his expression didn’t betray his wildly racing thoughts. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Are you the owner of this building?’ the big man, Mahsud, asked.
‘Well, I’m renting it. It’s just temporary storage space.’
‘And how long have you been here?’
‘Just got here yesterday, actually.’
‘I see. Would you mind if we come inside, Mr…?’ Gondal left the question hanging, expecting Drake to fill the gap.
‘Douglas,’ Drake replied, giving the name on his fake passport without hesitation. ‘Robert Douglas.’
It was something of a cliché that fake identities should start with the same letters as real ones, but the logic was sound. The names rolled more easily off the tongue if they started with familiar letters, reducing the chance of the fatal pause that could give one away to experienced operators. Right now, Drake was undecided about just what kind of men he was up against.
‘Douglas,’ Gondal repeated. ‘It’s a hot day, Mr Douglas. May we come inside?’
‘I’d rather know what brings you here first.’ If he was too friendly or accommodating, they might wonder if he was trying to overcompensate for something.
‘We only want to ask a few questions.’ He looked almost apologetic for intruding on Drake’s day. ‘We won’t keep you long, but we would appreciate your cooperation.’
Drake nodded, moving aside to let the two men in, Mahsud having to duck in through the small doorway. Straight away they took in the small gathering of people clustered near the collapsible tables. Drake couldn’t help noticing Mahsud’s hand straying towards his right hip, where there was no doubt a gun hidden beneath his suit jacket.
Drake’s companions had stopped what they were pretending to be doing and turned towards the two detectives, their expressions ranging from surprise to wariness to thinly veiled hostility. Anya in particular looked like she was ready to shoot first and ask questions sometime next week.
‘Guys, these men are from the Punjabi Police Department,’ Drake explained as he led the two men across the warehouse floor, giving Anya a look that warned against any sudden moves. ‘They’ve come to ask us a few questions.’
Both detectives exchanged glances as they approached the van. Clearly it meant something to them.
‘This is your van?’ Mahsud asked.
‘For our sins.’ Drake forced a pained smile. ‘The old girl hasn’t exactly distinguished herself. That’s why we brought in the Rover. Something a bit more reliable, you know?’
‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t. A car like that is beyond the salary of a humble detective,’ Gondal said with a faint chuckle. ‘On that subject, what line of work are you in, Mr Douglas?’
‘We’re a freight company. Apex Deliveries.’ Reaching into his pocket, Drake fished out a crumpled business card and proudly held it out, as if he relished the chance to represent his company. ‘We’re expanding into Pakistan, so they sent us as kind of an… advance team to lay the groundwork, set up warehousing, logistics, all the rest.’
Apex Deliveries was one of many front companies set up by the Agency as a convenient cover for clandestine operations. It was legitimate in the sense that it was a registered business which filed tax returns, kept financial records, contact details, even maintained its own website to create the illusion of a functioning business entity. Of course, it had never delivered a single piece of freight in its existence, and its ‘corporate headquarters’ was nothing more than a postal box in Milwaukee that was checked once a month, but that was unlikely to mean much to a pair of police officers half a world away.
Gondal looked around, taking in the meagre collection of empty tables, the decrepit van parked in the centre of the room. It didn’t exactly look like the hub for a big delivery firm.
‘You said you wanted to ask me some questions,’ Drake prompted.
Mahsud turned to face him, removing his sunglasses to reveal a pair of dark, calculating eyes. ‘Where were you between midnight and 2 a.m. last night?’
Drake knew right away what the man’s agenda was. He was trying to catch him off guard with the sudden question, making him sweat and perhaps give away something critical.
‘Well, right here,’ Drake said, managing to look perplexed by the question. ‘We’d only arrived yesterday evening.’
‘All of you?’ Mahsud persisted.
‘Yeah, all of us.’
‘And the night watchman will confirm this if we question him? Your van did not enter or leave during that time?’
He was trying to play hardball now. But Drake knew the night watchman didn’t log vehicles entering or leaving. He’d had to specifically stop at the man’s hut just to get his attention, and even then he’d acted put upon, disturbed from cricket match he’d been watching on a little portal TV.
‘If he was doing his job, I’d imagine so.’ He eyed the two men curiously. ‘Look, I don’t want to be difficult, but we have a lot of work ahead of us. Do you mind telling me what this is all about?’
‘Forgive my companion, Mr Douglas. It has been a long day for both of us,’ Gondal said, removing a handkerchief from his pocket and using it to wipe his brow. ‘The truth is that two men disappeared last night from a residential district in Islamabad. Earlier today their bodies were found in shallow graves several miles outside the city. At the time of the abduction, witnesses reported seeing a grey panel van in the area matching the description of your vehicle, hearing the sounds of a scuffle and raised voices speaking in English.’
Fuck, fuck, fuck! his mind screamed at him. They obviously hadn’t disposed of the two bodies as well as they’d thought last night. Perhaps the area in which they’d buried them was more heavily used than it appeared in the dead of night, or perhaps the scent had drawn predators to the area, which in turn sparked human interest.
Worse still, someone in a nearby building must have overheard the confrontation, perhaps even called those two security officers in the first place to investigate the van. And now the police were on the case.
This was a situation that could go downhill fast. If these men suspected them of wrongdoing, they could arrest them all on the spot. The result would be the total failure of their mission, and the end of any hopes they still held of taking out Cain.
A brief, fleeting glance at Anya told him she was harbouring similar thoughts, while her slight change in posture signalled her intention to take direct and violent action to remedy it. He was by now all too aware of how ruthless she could be when backed into a corner.
‘So they’ve got you out questioning everyone in the district who owns a panel van?’ Drake managed to chuckle in sympathy, shaking his head. ‘You must have a lot of calls to make today, detective.’
The older man gave a rueful smile. ‘You have no idea. But all the same, we have procedures to follow, so it must be done. Now, you say you were here in this warehouse last night. Can anyone corroborate that?’
‘We all can,’ Mason chimed in. ‘We were here unpacking our stuff until pretty late. If anyone had tried to leave, we’d have seen them.’
‘Unless you were all involved,’ Mahsud reasoned, his tone dark and accusing.
Drake held his hands out in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Look, I understand you have a job to do, but we’re just delivery drivers – we’re not in the business of murdering people.’
‘I understand. Nobody is accusing you of anything, Mr Douglas. This is just standard procedure.’ Gondal paused for a few seconds, considering the situation. ‘May I see your passports?’
Drake looked over at Anya, wanting to remove her from the situation before she did something they all regretted. ‘Anna, would you do me a favour an
d fetch them? They should be in the office at the back.’
‘Anna’ hesitated for a second, then reluctantly nodded. ‘Of course.’
As she moved off to retrieve the fake IDs they’d brought, Drake did his best not to look like what he was – an extremely guilty man who was in very real danger of being discovered. His only hope at this moment was to try to bluff their way out. They certainly couldn’t afford to leave any more dead bodies in their wake, especially not police officers who would soon be missed if they failed to report in.
It was at that moment that he happened to glance over at Mason, and felt his heart skip a beat. A small but noticeable stain had formed on his jacket, several small red patches beginning to show through the fabric across the left side of his chest. It wasn’t too obvious yet, but he knew it would be soon enough.
If he could see it, then Gondal and Mahsud were likely to spot it at any moment. And when they saw a bloodstain on one of the very men they were questioning about an abduction and murder, it was safe to say they could kiss goodbye to any chance of talking their way out of this.
With no other way of getting his attention, Drake stared directly at Mason until the man sensed something was wrong and looked over. As soon as he had eye contact, Drake glanced purposefully down to Mason’s chest. He couldn’t say it out loud, but his meaning was plain.
You’re bleeding. Fucking do something before you give us all away!
A sudden widening of his eyes and tightening in his friend’s shoulders told Drake his message had been understood. Turning away nonchalantly, Mason reached for a plastic cup of coffee that had been sitting on the worktop since this morning, held it up and pretended to drink, only to fumble it and lose his grip at the last second.
‘Aw, man. You’ve got to be kidding me,’ he groaned as long-cold coffee slopped onto his jacket, neatly masking the blood stain. ‘I just bought this damn thing.’
Mahsud watched with mild irritation as Mason picked up a rag that only hours before had been used for cleaning automatic weapons, and set about dabbing at the coffee stain.
